Chilling Monster Tales 001 (1966)

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Lost chapter from the

Reviewed by SAM MOSKOWITZ

Go Mew, THe fkxA>o<Jft

The glorious form of shroud-
draped Gloria Holden. lips moistened
with fresh blood, rising with seductive
appetite from a bier in Dracula's
Daughter (Universal, 1936) sent hor-
ror film fans scuttling to see if there
was more to the Dracula legend than
they had initially realized. Nowhere
in the book version of Dracula by
Brani Stoker were they able to find
any reference to this blood kin. Evi-
dentally, they felt, the movie was little
more than a Hollywood writer's night-

mare and bore as little relation to the
original book as Abbott and Costello
Meet Frankenstein did to Mary Woll-
stonccraft Shelley's 1818 classic
Frankenstein: or. The Modern Pro-
metheus.

They were wrong, as they instantly
realized when Hillman-Curl, Inc.
issued as "\ Clue Club" mystery; a
collection of short stories titled Drac-
ula's Guest by Bram Stoker with a
somberly green book jacket illustrated
with an appropriate scene from Drac- '

ula's Daughter. The appearance of
this volume in 1937 was its first pub-
lication in the United States but it
had gone through many editions
under the imprint of Routledge, Lon-
don, from 1914 onwards. Dracula's
Guest comprised but one short story
in the volume, a collection of some
of the best uncollected talcs of Bram
Stoker.

The book quickly cleared up the
mystery of the story's origin. It was
not. as some claimed, a sequel or the

original vampire novel!

befsaaiQgs of a sequel to Draeula. Its
trac lucnrc was clearly expounded in
_ -•-\-z:z\::-. b> Biarn Sinker's

widow FVxeoce A. L. Bram Stoker:
A few months before the la-
mented death of my husband — I
merit say even as the shadow of
death was over him — he planned
three series of short stories for pub-
lication, and the present volume is
one of them. To his original list I
have added an hitherto unpublished
episode from "Dracuia." It was
originally excised owing to the
length of the book, and may prove
of interest to the many readers of
what is considered my husband's
most remarkable work."
She also made it clear that she had
permitted no revision to be made in
his work. It remained exactly as he
had written it.

Dracuia first appeared, minus this
chapter, in 1897, published by the
London firm of Archibald Constable
and Company. The first edition has
become an expensive collector's item
today, bound in bright yellow cloth
with the title and author stamped in
blood red on both the from and the
back. In the binding design every at-
tempt had been made to convey
vividly an impression of blatant sen-
sationalism, and the outward appear-
ance of the book is at least 30 years
more modern than one would expect.

The character of Dracuia was
based on an actual historical figure—
Voivode Drakula, monarch of Wal-
achia during the years 1455-62 —
actually referred to in older writings
as a 'wampyr." The prototype was
something of a national hero battling
the Turks with consummate skill and
feverish fiendishness. Because of his
successful record against difficult
odds, as well as his penchant for
extreme cruelty ( at which art the
Turks were no amaturs), the legend
of the supernatural gradually evolved
about him and his relatives.

Therefore, Dracuia, as he appeared
in the novel, was not completely
woven out of Stoker's imagination but
based upon an actual man and the
bizarre legends surrounding him.

Was the excised chapter, later pub-
lished as Dracuia' s Guest, but a
weak fragment, just as well omitted
from the final work?
Scarcely.

In writing skill, invention, super-
natural props, atmosphere and adroit
8

handling it was in Stoker's best form.
Beyond that, despite the fact that it
was never intended to stand alone, it
comes very close to qualifying as a
well-formed short story.

The missing section evidentally was
intended to fit into the very first pages
of Dracuia or even to open the book
and additional transitional matter was
written to smooth the flow after the
decision was made to remove it, The
segment is part of Jonathan Harker's
Journal (kept in shorthand).

The protagonist has been invited to
the castle of Dracuia and sets out
from the Munich hotel of Quatre
Saisons for a pleasant ride in the
outer areas prior to continuing to
Transylvania. Before he leaves, his
driver is cautioned by the hotel
owner:

"Remember to come back by
nightfall. The sky looks bright but
there is a shiver in the north wind
that says there may be a sudden
storm. But I am sure you will not
be late." Here he smiled, and added,
"for you know what night it is."

Johann answered with an em-
phatic, "Ja, mein Herr," and, touch-
ing his hat, drove off quickly. When
we had cleared the town, I said.

after signaling him to stop:
"Tell me, Johann, what is to-
night?"

He crossed himself, as he answered
laconically: "Walpurgis Nacht."

The ride carries them past an in-
viting road, which disappears down
into a valley. Intrigued, Jonathan
Harker asks the driver to turn into
it, but is refused. There is a deserted
village down that road that has not
been lived in for hundreds of years.
The place is regarded with super-
stitious fear by nearby residents, who
rarely venture there and never on
"Walpurgis Nacht." There are strange
omens in the wind. The horses rear
in fear. In the distance there is the
yelping of wolves, a strange sound so
close to Munich.

To dissuade Harker from ventur-
ing further the coach driver expounds
the legend. ". . . long ago, hundreds
of years, men had died there and
been buried in their graves; and
sounds were heard under the clay,
and when the graves were opened,
men and women were found rosy
with life, and their mouths red with
blood. And so, in haste to save their
lives (aye, an their souls! — and here
he crossed himself) those who were

left fled away to other places, where
the living lived, and the dead were
dead and not — not something."

Amused by the driver's fear, Jon-
athan Harker leaves the coach and
jauntily saunters with his walking stick
towards the deserted village. The vil-
lage is further off than he imagined,
and the sky grows dark and the wind

chill. Finally, in the light of the moon,
he reaches a marble tomb upon which
is engraven:

COUNTESS DOLING EN OF
GRATZ IN STYRIA
SOUGHT AND FOUND DEAD

An iron spike is imbedded in the
top of the tomb on which are cut in
large Russian letters the cryptic
phrase: "The dead travel fast."

A storm rises, the fierocity of
which drives Harker into the shelter
of the tomb. Of that incident Harker
writes: "The shelter of even a tomb
was welcome in that pitiless tempest,
9

and I was about to enter it when there
came a flash of forked lightning that
lit up the whole expanse of the
heavens. In the instant, as I am a
10

living man, I saw, my eyes turned into
the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful
woman, with rounded cheeks and red
lips, seemingly sleeping on a bier. . .

Just then there came another blinding
flash, which seemed to strike the iron
stake that surmounted the tomb and
to pour through to the earth, blasting
and crumbling the marble, as in a
burst of flame. The dead woman rose
for a moment of agony, while she was
lapped in the flame, and her bitter
scream of pain was drowned in the
thundercrash."

From that brief passage was de-
rived the central idea of the motion
picture of Dracula's Daughter. How-
ever, it is not the end of the story.

The apparent force of the lightning
tosses Harker from the tomb, and after
an indefinite period of unconscious-
ness, he comes to with the realization
that "Some great animal was lying on
me and now licking my throat. I
feared to stir, for some instinct of
prudence bade me lie still; but the
brute seemed to realize that there was
now some change in me. for it raised
its head. Through my eyelashes I saw
above me the two great flaming eyes
of a gigantic wolf. Its sharp white
teeth gleamed in the gaping red
mouth, and I could feel its hot breath
fierce and acrid upon me."

Quite sensibly Harker blanks out
again. He regains consciousness to
hear the wolf yelp in a peculiar
fashion, almost as though signaling
someone. Gradually the sound of
voices become apparent and the wolf
yelps "faster and louder." As a troop
of horsemen mount a rise, the wolf
leaps from the breast of Harker and
heads for the cemetary, eluding seve-
ral shots fired in his direction.

With fear and trembling the res-
cuers comment of the wolf:

It — it — indeed!" gibbered one,
whose wits had plainly given out for
the moment.

"A wolf — and yet not a wolf!"
another put in shudderingly.

"No use trying for him without

the sacred bullet," a third remarked

in a more ordinary manner.

"Serves us right for coming out

on this night! Truly we have earned

our thousand marks!" were the

ejaculations of a fourth.

"There was blood on the broken

marble," another said after a pause

—"the lightning never brought that

there, and for him — is he safe?

Look at his throat! See, comrades,

the wolf has been lying on him and

keeping his blood warm."

It was now evident that the "wolf

These are the triffids. gigantic and hideous, out to
devour the human race. They are the menace of THE
DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS, an exciting 1963 science
fiction film from England which starred Howard Keel,
was made in Cinemascope and color, and was based on
a best-seller by John Wyndhom.

Although most of the world has been blinded by the
meteors, there are a few humans who have been spared.
One of them is Bill Masen (Keel ), an American seaman
recovering from an eye operation in a London hospital.
He rips off his bandages and leaves the deserted hospital
to find a city gone mad. Two others are marine biologists
in a lighthouse off the coast of Cornwall — Tom Goodwin
and his wife Karen (Kieron Moore, Janette Scott).
Although Bill Masen and the Goodwins never meet,
DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS fells both their stories.

London is a city in the grip of terror. Those people
still alive run about madly, blind and hysterical, easy
victims to the advancing triffids. Bill Masen finds another
person who can see— a young girl named Susan — and
together they commandeer a launch and cross the English
Channel, hoping that the situation is different in France.
But the triffids are everywhere.
14

However, in a French road they come across beautiful
Christine Durrant (Nicole Maurey), who also has escaped
blindness. She leads them to her chateau, which she and
her brother have turned into a hospital. But convicts from
a nearby prison, who also can see, break into the chateau
— determined to have one last, lusty fling. Bill, Susan
and Christine escape just in time — the triffids have sur-
rounded the ancient building — and head for what they
hope is safety; a naval base at Alicante, Spain.

At the lighthouse, meanwhile, Tom Goodwin kills a
triffid with a harpoon — or seemingly kills it. Curious, he
performs an "autopsy" . . . but can find nothing that
mankind can use as a weapon against the creatures. And
as he and his wife snatch a few hours" sleep, the "dead"
triffid stirs . . .

Back to Bill and his friends, now driving through the
Spanish countryside in a commandeered circus caliope
truck. They seek shelter in a farmhouse, and help deliver
a baby, gratified to note that new children born into the
world are not blind. But, as night falls, a vast army of
triffids— triffids by the hundreds of thousands— surround
the farm. A burning gasoline truck takes care of the first
ranks of the creatures . . . and Bill makes a discovery.
The eye-less invaders are attracted by noise. So he drives
off in the caliope truck, leading the triffids into the sea.
He and his friends are safe for the moment.
16

2T"
— -41

Ac the lighthouse, however, lom Goodwin and his
wife are not safe. The triftids have multiplied, and have
forced their way into the place Tom and Karen are
backed up the stairs, knowing that a touch from the
triffids' tentacles is fatal But lorn knows, too. that once
they have reached the lop of the lighthouse there is no-
where left to go. In desperation, he reaches for the fire
hose and turns it on the nearest creature . . . AND SEES
THE ADVANCING TRIFFID DISSOLVE INTO PUT-
RESCENT MUCK UNDER THE FORCE OF THE
SPRAY!

Sea water . . . ordinary sea water . . . plentiful sea
water with its highly corrosive salt content . . . this is
the weapon which will save what is left of humanity! This
is what will destroy the triftids!

Tom Goodwin splashes through the gray, slimy mud —

all that is left of the enemy
wireless set. The first step has been taken in the rebuild-
ing of the world.

The last scene in this film is a memorable one. and
elevates the flick to the position of a minor classic.

We see Bill Masen and others coming out of a church
As the giant bell, in the steeple rings, he turns and says.
"Mankind now has a chance, hxlay. we indeed should
be thankful — to a higher power!"

That is all. THE END flashes on the screen The lights
in the theatre come on The audience gels up from their
seats. But memories linger on — (or this much -neglected,
inspiring movie— the victim of poor national distribution
and shoddy publicity campaigns— is truly a masterpiece
of its kind. Maybe 20 years from now. it will be accon
the praise it deserves!

HOUSE OF

FRANKENSTEIN

The shadows are I

Ahead of you . . . the
crumbling battlements of
a bleak ruin ...
If you dare . . . step inside

"All together .... the screen's
titans of terror!"

And just like the advertisements
promised, HOUSE OF FRANKEN-
STEIN was a house-full of monsters,
more monsters than had ever been
gathered together for a horror film
before. Frankstein's creature . . . the
Wolf Man . . . Dracula ... a hunch-
back ... a mad doctor . . all for the
price of a single admission The sixth
film in the Frankenstein series — four-
teen years after the creation of Fran-
kenstein's monster in the studios of
Universal — HOUSE promised to be
a blockbuster.

The year— 1945. World War II
was still raging in the European and
Pacific areas. The horror film cycle
of the early forties that had started
with the meteoric rise in the career
of Lon Chaney Jr. seemed to some to
have played itself out. Particularly
so with the Frankenstein theme.
Stories involving the creature alone
had lost a good deal of their excite-
ment. Something else — some other
plus — was needed. Universal had ex-
perimented two years before by hav-
ing Frankenstein meet the Wolf Man,
the studio's other great monster "star."
It was a great success — and a good
horror film.

This time, Universal was to go
whole hog: it would pack it's next
installment of the Frankenstein saga
not only with its three top horror
creations, Frankenstein, the Wolf
Man and Dracula, but with other
spine-tinglers as well! And it peopled
this house of horrors with a spect-
acular cast of players.

Most spectacular of all was the re-
turn of Boris Karloff to the Franken-
stein scene! Karloff, who had cata-
pulted to fame playing the monster in
the original FRANKENSTEIN and
in two sequels, left the series six years
before, claiming that the role of the
creature had, for him, exhausted its
possibilities. Now he was back . . .
Karloff the Great . . . playing, this
time, not Frankenstein's creation but
the insane scientist who would bring
that creation once again back to life!

Co-starred with Boris Karloff was
Lon Chaney Jr., who — in a few brief
years— had played ALL of Univer-
sal^ top monstrosities. He had taken
over the role of Frankenstein's mon-
ster from Karloff. He had succeeded
Bela Lugosi in playing Dracula. And
he had brought his own great acting

talent to the role he originated and
played to perfection: Larry Talbot,
the Wolf Man.

But, with Lon Chaney as the Wolf
Man, who was to play the most piv-
otal role of all — the role on which the
title of the film was built — that of
Frankenstein's creation? Bela Lugosi
had played it in the last previous
entry in the series, but, great actor
that he was, the casting had been
something of a mistake. At any rate,-
Lugosi was no longer available to
Universal. So another actor was
needed.

It was Universale make-up genius
Jack Pearce — who had created the
makeup for the original FRANKEN-
STEIN — who "discovered" Glenn
Strange, and nominated him for the
coveted role. Strange, an ex-cowboy,
wrestler and stuntman before turning
to acting, had portrayed one previous
"monster" role — as the simple farm-
hand George Zucco changes into a
wolf-creature in MAD MONSTER.
In facial structure and in build, he
was perfect for the portrayal of Fran-
kenstein's creation ... a part he was
to play three times in all, as many
times as Karloff.

For the role of the sinister Count
Dracula, Universal chose the tall, lean
Shakespearean actor John Carradine,
who had the year before plaved
BLUEBEARD. J. Carrol Naish was
given the part of Daniel the hunch-
back, and George Zucco makes a
brief appearance as "Professor"
Lampini, proprietor of a traveling
horror show. More or less as window
dressing. Universal threw in Anne
Gwynne and Peter Coe as a romantic
team, and Lionel Atwill.

And, having gathered together a
topnotch cast for THE HOUSE OF
FRANKENSTEIN, Universal pro-
ceeded to turn out a topnotch horror
film.

The story begins behind the grim
walls of a prison in the medieval town
of Neustadt. Imprisoned for fifteen
years for macabre and unnatural
scientific experiments, the bearded
Dr. Gustav Niemann, has eyes ablaze
with madness, explains to the prisoner
in the next cell how in years past Dr.
Frankenstein, his teacher, has tran-
splanted the brain of a man into the
head of a dog. Daniel, the adjoining
prisoner, listens intently. He is a
hunchback, and hopes Niemann will
someday do the same for him—

transplant HIS brain into a perfect
body!

Suddenly, a flash of lightning illum-
inates the cell and the medical diag-
rams Niemann has scrawled upon its
walls. A violent storm brews outside
. . . and the force of it breaks the
stone walls of the ancient prison.
Niemann and Daniel escape into the
night and the rain.

The scene changes. It is now a
storm-lashed road and a circus
wagon; Professor Lampini's travelling
Chamber of Horrors is stuck in mud.
Niemann and Daniel help Lampini
extricate his caravan and soon are
comfortably inside, listening to Lam-
pini as he describes his collection of
exhibits. His prize: the actual skel-
eton of Count Dracula, a stake through
its rib-case, displayed in a coffin filled
with earth taken from his Transyl-
vanian homeland. As Lampini ramb-
les on, Niemann thinks: What a
perfect travelling hideway: If I be-
came Lampini, I could journey Jo
those who placed me in prison . . . and
have my revenge! He signals Daniel,
who stands behind the Professor. A
moment later, the Professor is dead.

Soon the travelling show is in the
small town of Reigelburg, where Herr

Hussman, the burgomaister, once
testified against Dr. Niemann. The
insane scientist, who has shaved his
beard, stops his caravan in the town
square and exhibits it to a crowd
that includes both the burgomeister
and his beautiful daughter, who has
just become a bride.

That evening, Niemann pulls the
stake from the skeleton of Count
Dracula. Slowly, the skeleton is
clothed in veins and flesh ... it is
Dracula returned to life! The two face
one another, and Niemann strikes a
bargain: in return for having restored
him to freedom, the Count must do
Niemann one favor — become the in-
strument of his revenge against Herr
Hussman.

A bat is seen flapping near the bur-
gomeister's home . . . and Hussman
dies. But Dracula has caught a
glimpse of Hussmann's daughter, and
later approaches her — as "Baron
Latoes." This proves his undoing. The
girl's husband recognizes him as a
vampire, and a fantastic pursuit
begins, through the night. Dracula
cannot reach his coffin before dawn
. . . and disintegrates. Meanwhile.
The Lampini circus rolls on. Days

later, they are on the outskirts of the
village of Frankenstein. Niemann is
here to collect, if he can._ the notes
of his old teacher. Henry Franken-
stein. They come upon a gypsy camp,
?nd Daniel spies a beautiful young
gypsy dancing girl being mistreated
by a tribesman, who is whipping her.
He seizes the whip and uses it on its
owner, and makes off t with the un-
conscious girl. He begs Niemann to
allow the girl to travel with them, and
the scientist grudgingly consents.

It is late that night, in the ruins of
Frankenstein's castle. (The grim
structure had been destroyed by the
floodwaters of a burst dam at the end
of the last film, as you recall.) Nie-
mann and Daniel, searching for the
dead scientist's papers, stumble into
some subterranean chambers . . . and
find the bodies of Frankenstein's

22

monster and the Wolfman, frozen in
great slabs of ice!

Using timbers from the castle itself.
Niemann and Daniel build great fires
and thaw out the two bodies. Im-
mediately the Wolfman's visage
changes . . . and he is transformed
into the pathetic Lawrence Talbot,
wearer of the Sign of the Pentogram,
a cursed lycanthrop, wanting only to
die.

Die? But there is no need, Niemann
reasons. "Let me transfer your brain
into a normal body— then you will
be rid of the pentogram forever!" All
Niemann needs is old Dr. Franken-
stein's notes . . . and Talbot shows
him where they have been secreted.
Taking the body of Frankenstein's
monster with them, they journey on
to Vasaria, where lies Dr. Niemann's

old hnm.'— ^ml IgfrggtOty

While they travel, Ilonka, the young
gypsy girl, finds the moody and tragic
Larry Talbot fascinating. Daniel is
furiously jealous, and Larry does not
respond to the girl's attentions. He
knows what can happen when the
moon is full. But Ilonka — despite
Larry's hostility — finds herself falling
in love with him.

At Vasaria. Niemann opens his old
estate and unlocks his laboratory.

Soon, electrical impulses are charging
through the body of Frankenstein's
creation once again, and the great
experiments in probing the secrets of
life and death have resumed. As well,
two of the townspeople have disap-
peared — two who in other years had
been the cause of Niemann's arrest.
And the moon has become full while
things are coming rapidly to a head.

Ilonka now knows that Larry Tal-
bot is a lycanthrop— he has confessed
to her. She also knows that the only
thing that can kill such a creature is
a silver bullet fired by one who loves
him. She fashions such a bullet from
a silver gypsy charm ... but it does
not save her. That night, under the
rays of the full moon, a maddened,
hairy man-beast — Lawrence Talbot
transformed— leaps on her and tears
out her throat. With her last ounce
of strength, she fires her silver pellet
at him . . . and the tragic figure, re-
stored to his original appearance,
expires.

Daniel sees the bodies, and is in-
furiated. Ilonka, whom he loved, is
dead! And it is all really Niemann's
fault, for had the doctor given
him a new body — Talbot's body — as
he promised, instead of trying to bring
Frankenstein's creation back to life,
all this would not have happened. He
turns on Niemann in his laboratory —
just as the monster is restored to full
electrical life!

The monster breaks free from the
operating table and, seeing Daniel
trying to strangle Niemann, picks up
the hunchback and throws him out
a window. Meanwhile a mob of vil-
lagers, seeing flashing lights in the
laboratory and remembering what has
happened here fifteen years before,
have gathered with torches — just in
time to see Frankenstein's monster
pick up the wounded Niemann. Try-
ing to escape the villagers, the mon-
ster — carrying the doctor — backs into
a bog. and finds himself kneedeep in
quicksand. He is unable to extricate
himself and. as the villagers watch,
both Frankenstein's creation and the
mad Dr. Niemann sink beneath the
surface of the deadly quicksand.

And there they remain. At least
until the next film in the series,
HOUSE OF DRACULA, which was
made that very same year.

shock, and opens a bottle of formic
acid under her nose. The reaction
is instantaneous. The girl leaps up,
her eyes wide with terror, and
screams: "Them! Them! THEM!!"

And that is one of the initial
high-points of one of the best sci-
ence-fiction horror films ever made,
the 1954 Warner Brothers shocker
called THEM, based on the story
by George Worthington Yates. More
than just a good thriller, THEM
established a pattern for nearly
every good sci-fi film to follow it
But, while many movies to come
after were modeled on THEM,
none of them were as electrifying.

But, back to our story: What
could the girl mean by "Them?",
Ben wondered. What could kill the
storekeeper that way . . . and for
sugar?? The answer comes the fol-
lowing morning . . . when a foot-
print is discovered in the desert
sand. It is the footprint of an ant
... but an ant thousands of times
enlarged. Proportionately, the crea-
ture which made that print should
be a gigantic thing, as large and as
tall as a human. Perhaps bigger.

This startling discovery brings to
the desert outpost three other key
members of our cast: FBI man
Robert Graham (James Arness),
plus Department of Agriculture sci-
entist Harold Medford (Edmund
Gwenn) and his daughter Patricia
(Joan Weldon). It is Or. Medford
who advances a theory about the
creatures. They are mutations . . .
spawned as a radioactive by-pro-
duct of the Nevada atomic tests.
They must be sought out and de-
stroyed.

A systematic search is made of
the desert area. A monstrous ant-
hill is discovered . . . and trained
army militiamen are lowered into
the tunnels of the nest for practi-
cally hand-to-hand combat with the
gigantic creatures. The ants are
fantastic . . . grotesque . . . with
large, hairy tendrils, claws that can
kill

Poison gas disposes of the ants
in the desert nest But as Ben and
Bob Graham push in towards the
queen's chamber, they come upon
three hatched and empty eggs. A
queen and two dromes have es-
caped!

The man who speaks holds a
scapel. He is a heavy man. with round
face, sensuous lips, and a small beard.
Because of the heat of this tropical
isle his brow is sweaty, but it is an
intelligent brow, and a gentleman's
face . . . although at times one
glimpses a touch of cruel sadism lurk-
ing behind those eyes. His name is
Doctor Morcau . . .

Dr. Moreau. the Vivisectionist!
Moreau, the brilliant young surgeon
who more than a decade before had
been forced to leave England because
of the dark horrors he spawned in
his private laboratory . . . the obscene
experiments in mutilation he carried
out on dogs and other animals.
Moreau . . . who had moved his base
of operations in secret to a tropical
paradise and transformed it into a
island of lost souls!

From H. G. Wells' famous science-
fiction novel, THE ISLAND OF DR.
MOREAU. Paramount in 1933 pro-
duced a chilling and daring motion
picture. H was not a pretty story. But
it was written by the prophetic genius
who was the shaper of THINGS TO
COME, the man who envisoned THE
WAR OF THE WORLDS and FIRST
MEN IN THE MOON. And it was
translated to the screen by Philip
Wylie, co-author of WHEN WORLDS
COLLIDE. It was directed by Erie
C. Kanton. whose later journeys into
horror were to include HOUSE OF
FRANKENSTEIN and HOUSE OF
DRACULA. All in all. it was motion
picture dynamite.

Particularly explosive because that
great character actor, Charles Laugh-
ton, starred as Dr. Moreau (later the
same year he would portray, and
receive an Academy Award for THE
PRIVATE LIFE OF HENRY VIII 1
. . . and Bela Lugosi would co-star as
one of Moreau's horrifying beast-men.
Also in the cast: Richard Arlen, Leila
Hyams and Kathleen Burke.

THE ISLAND OF LOST SOULS
begins in the deceptive calm of the
South Pacific waters . . .

Floating on some debris is Edward
Parker, the soul survivor of a
ship which has sunk. He is picked up
by a steamer carrying a cargo of wild
animals being transported to a certain
island — an island far off the normal
trade routes. A young doctor named
Montgomery is the man in charge of
transporting these animals, and he
and Parker strike up a friendship.
36

Montgomery has some servants with
him, and Parker notices that these
are strange, brutish creatures. Every-
one on the steamer — its drunken
captain, al! the crew — hate and fear
Montgomery's servants. Why?, Parker
wonders.

And then he notices that Mont-
gomery's servants have furry, pointed
ears.

When they arrive at the small isle
which is Montgomery's destination,
the alcohol-soaked captain unloads
Parker as well . . . forcing him to be
the unwilling guest of the island's
master: Dr. Moreau!

"We are a biological station here
. . ." says the rotund, authoritative
doctor. He is amiable, pleasant. But
Parker is frightened by the grotesque,
seemingly deformed servants which
Moreau has about him. They don't
look like the ordinary natives of this
region of the South Pacific, Parker
observes . . . they don't look like
natives anywhere. Lumbering, fanged,
furry, hideous . , . what are they?'

Why do they cringe in fear of Moreau
. . . and mutter of "The House of
Pain"? And who is the very feline
native girl, Lota, who casts her cat's-
eyes at Parker at every opportunity?

And then. Moreau explains.

His servants are not men, but
animals . . . animals transformed into
men . . . beasts made to walk erect
and stamped with the attributes of
humans . . . through the triumph of
the vivisectioner's art! This is Mor-
eau's triumph . . . the result of more
than a decade of surgery, genetical
experimentation, radiation, grafts . . .
"I have bypassed a thousand years of
evolution!"

Parker is horrified.

. . . and he is even more horrified
when he learns what is to be his part
in Morcau's scientific experimenta-
tion.

He is to be the mate of Lota. . . .
Lota, Moreau's most successful cre-
ation — a woman fashioned from a
panther!

However, another pawn in the
doctor's infernal game arrives . . .
Parker's sweetheart, Ruth, who —
through the steamer captain — has
traced Parker to this island. Moreau
is secretly ecstatic. More humans to
mate with his experiments! For he
realizes that his work is far from per-
fect and far from over . . . "the stub-
born beast-flesh keeps creeping back
... as soon as my hand is taken from
them the beast begins to assert itself
again ..."

And the beast in his creations does
assert itself, in the end. When one
of the crew Ruth has brought with
her is killed, the beast-men realize
that their masters arc not immortal
. . . and, as well, they catch the scent
of blood!

Those "thousand years of evolu-
tion" slip away . . . and all the grafted
human traits of Moreau's "house of
pain"— his surgical laboratory — arc
forgotten as the beast-creatures move
in on their creator . . . and rip him
to shreds . . .

Parker and Ruth escape the island
as a fire breaks out during Moreau's
struggles and consumes his "biolog-
ical station." The island of lost souls
becomes a sheet of darning Hell!

Bon****

GALLERY OF CHILLING NEW MONSTERS
CREATED ESPECIALLY FOR YOU!

Pin-ups Suitable for Framing

fifty P *««

SHOCK

THAT SHUN
THE LIGHT AND WALK

BY NIGHT...

Edgar A

MURDERS IN THE
RUE MORGUE

i

. . the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the building, where lay
the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her,
the head fell off."

I

Residing in Paris during the spring
and part of (he summer of 18—. I
there became acquainted with a Mon-
sieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young
gentleman was of an excellent, indeed
an illustrious family, but. by a variety
of events, had been reduced to poverty
and he ceased to bestir himself in the
world, or to care for the retrieval of
his fortunes. By courtesy of his cred-
itors, there still remained in his pos-
sesion a small remnant of his wealth;
and. upon the income arising from
this, he managed, by means of a rig-
orous economy, to procure the neces-
saries of life. Books, indeed, were his
sole luxuries, and in Paris these arc
easily obtained.

Our first meeting was at an obscure
library in the Rue Montmartre. where
the accident of our both being in search
of the same very rare and very re-
markable volume, brought us together.
We saw each other again and again. I
was deeply interested in the litllc
family history which he detailed to
mc. I was astonished, too. at the vast
extent of his reading; and, above all,
I felt myself moved by the wild fervor,
and the vivid freshness of his imagi-
nation. Seeking in Paris the objects I
then sought. I felt that the society of
such a man would be to me a treasure
beyond price; and this feeling I frankly
confided to him. It was at length ar-
ranged that we should live together
during my slay in the city.

Our seclusion was perfect. We ad-
mitted no visitors. Indeed, the locality
of our retirement had been carefully
kept a secret from my own former
associates.

At the first dawn of each morning
we closed all the shutters of our old
building; lighted a couple of candles
which, strongly perfumed, threw out
only the ghastliest and feeblest of rays.
By the aid of these we then busied our
souls in dreams — reading, writing, or
conversing, until warned by the clock
of the advent of the true Darkness.
Then we went forth into the streets,
arm in arm.

At such times 1 could not help re-
marking and admiring a peculiar an-
alytic ability in Dupin. His manner at
these moments was frigid and abstract;
his eyes were vacant in expression:
while his voice, usually a rich tenor,
rose into a treble.

Not long after this, wc were looking
over an evening edition of the "Gazette
des Tribunaux," when the following
50

paragraphs arrested our attention.

"Extraordinary Murders. — This
morning, about three o'clock, the in-
habitants of the Quartier St. Roch
were roused from sleep by a succes-
sion of terrific shrieks, issuing, appar-
ently, from the fourth story of a house
in the Rue Morgue, known to be in
the sole occupancy of one Madame
L'Espanaye. and her daughter. Ma-
demoiselle Camitjc L'Espanaye. After
some delay, occasioned by a fruitless
attempt to procure admission in the
usual manner, the gateway was broken
in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of
the neighbors entered, accompanied
by two gendarmes. By this time the
cries had ceased: but. as the party
rushed up the first flight of stairs, two
or more rough voices, in angry con-
tention, were distinguished, and seem-
ed to proceed from the upper pan of
the house. As the second landing was
reached, these -sounds, also, had
ceased, and everything remained per-
fectly quiet. The party spread them-
selves, and hurried from room to
room. Upon arriving at a large back
chamber in the fourth story (the door
of which, being found locked, with the
key inside, was forced open), a spec-
tacle presented itself which struck
every one present not less with horror
than with astonishment.

"The apartment was in the wildest
disorder — the furniture broken and
thrown about in all directions. There
was only one bedstead: and from this
the bed had been removed, and thrown
into the middle of the floor. On a chair
lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On
the hearth were two or three long and
thick tresses of gray human hair, also
dabbled with blood, and seeming to
have been pulled out by the roots.
Upon the floor were found four Na-
poleons, an earring of topaz, three
large silver spoons, three smaller of
metal d'Alger, and two bags, contain-
ing nearly four thousand francs in
gold. The drawers of a bureau, which
stood in one corner, were open, and
had been, apparently, rifled, although
many articles still remained in them.
A small iron safe was discovered under
the bed (not under the bedstead). It
was open, with the key still in the
door. It had no contents beyond a few
old letters, and other papers of little
consequence.

"Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces
were here seen; but an unusual quan-
tity of soot being observed in the fire-

place, a search was made in the chim-
ney, and (horrible to relate!) the
corpse of the daughter, head down-
ward, was dragged therefrom; it hav-
ing been thus forced up the narrow
aperture for a considerable distance.
The body was quite warm. Upon ex-
aminging it, many jagged wounds were
perceived, no doubt occasioned by the
violence with which it had been thrust
up and disengaged. Upon the face were
many severe scratches, and, upon the
throat, dark bruises, and deep inden-
tations of finger nails, as if the de-
ceased had been throttled to death.

"After a thorough investigation of
every portion of the house without
further discovery, the party made its
way into a small paved yard in the
rear of the building, where lay the
corpse of the old lady, with her throat
so entirely cut that, upon an attempt
to raise her, the head fell off. The
body, as well as the head, was fearfully
mutilated — the former so much so as
scarcely to retain any semblance of
humanity.

"To this horrible mystery there is
not as yet, we believe, the slightest
clew."

The next day's paper had these
additional particulars:

"The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue.
— Many individuals have been exam-
ined in relation to this most extraor-
dinary and frightful affair" [the word
affaire' has not yet, in France, that
levity of import which it conveys with
us] , "but nothing whatever has trans-
pired to throw light upon it. We give
below a physician's testimony.

"Paul Dumas, physician, deposes
that he was called to view the bodies
about daybreak. They were both then
lying on the sacking of the bedstead
in the chamber where Mademoiselle
L. was found. The corpse of the young
lady was much bruised and scratched.
The fact that it had been thrust up the
chimney would sufficiently account for
these appearances. The throat was
greatly chafed. There were several
deep scratches just below the chin,
together with a series of livid spots
which were evidently the impression
of fingers. The face was fearfully dis-
colored, and the eyeballs protruded.
The tongue had been partially bitten
through. A large bruise was discovered
upon the pit of the stomach, produced,
apparently, by the pressure of a knee.
In the opinion of M. Dumas, Made-
moiselle L'Espanaye had been throt-
tled to death by some person or per-
sons unknown. The corpse of the

mother was horribly mutilated. All the
bones of the right leg and arm were
more or less shattered. The left tibia
much splintered, as well as all the ribs
of the left side. Whole body dreadfully
bruised and discolored.

"It was not possible to say how the
injuries had been inflicted. A heavy
club of wood, or a broad bar of iron —
a chair — any large, heavy, and obtuse
weapon would have produced such re-
sults, if wielded by the hands of a very
powerful man. No woman could have
inflicted the blows with any weapon.
The head of the deceased, when seen
by witness, was entirely separted from
the body, and was also greatly shat-
tered. The throat had evidently been
cut with some very sharp instrument
— probably with a razor.

"Nothing further of importance was
elicited, although several other persons
were examined. A murder so mysteri-
ous, and so perplexing in all its par-
ticulars, was never before committed
in Paris — if indeed a murder has been
committed at all. The police are en-
tirely at fault — an unusual occurance
in affairs of this nature. There is not,
however, the shadow of a clew ap-
parent."

". . . on agility astounding,
a strength superhuman, a
ferocity brutal, a butchery
without motive, a grotesque
horror absolutely alien."

The evening edition of the paper
stated that the greatest excitement still
continued in the Quartier St. Roch —
that the premises in question had been
carefully researched, and fresh exam-
inations of witnesses instituted, but all
to no purpose. A postscript, however,
mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had
been arrested and imprisoned • — al-
though nothing appeared to criminate
him beyond the facts already detailed.

Dupin seemed singularly interested
in the progress of this affair — at least
so I judged from his manner, for he
made no comments. It was only after
the announcement that Le Bon had
been imprisoned, that he asked me
my opinion respecting the murders.

I could merely agree with all Paris
in considering them an insoluble mys-
tery. I saw no means by which it would
be possible to trace the murderer.

"We must not judge of the means."
said Dupin, "by this shell of an exam-

ination. The Parisian police, are cun-
ning, but no more. There is no method
in their proceedings, beyond the
method of the moment. They make a
vast parade of measures; but, not un-
frequently, these are so ill-adapted to
the objects proposed.

"As for these murders, let us enter
into some examinations for ourselves,
before we make up an opinion respect-
ing them. An inquiry will afford us
amusement" [I thought this an odd
term, so applied, but said nothing],
"and besides, Le Bon once rendered
me a service for which I am not un-
grateful. We will go and see the pre-
mises with our own eyes. I know G — ,
the Prefect of Police, and shall have
no difficulty in obtaining the necessary
permission."

The permission was obtained, and
we proceeded at once to the Rue
Morgue. This is one of those miserable
thoroughfares which intervene be-
tween the Rue Richelieu and the Rue
St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon
when we reached it, as this quarter
is at a great distance from that in which
we resided. The house was readily
found; for there were still many per-
sons gazing up at the closed shutters,
with an objectless curiosity, from the
opposite side of the way. It was an
ordinary Parisian house, with a gate-
way, on one side of which was a glazed
watch-box, with a sliding panel in the
window, indicating a loge de concierge.
Before going in we walked up the
street, turned down an alley, and then,
again turning, passed in the rear of
the building — Dupin, meanwhile, ex-
amining the whole neighborhood, as
well as the house, with a minuteness
of attention for which I could see no
possible object.

Retracing our steps we came again
to the front of the dwelling, rang, and,
having shown our credentials, were
admitted by the agents in charge. We
went upstairs — into the chamber
where the body of Mademoiselle L'-
Espanaye had been found, and where
both the deceased still lay. The dis-
orders of the room had, as usual, been
suffered to exist. I saw nothing beyond
what had been stated in the "Gazette
des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized
every thing — not excepting the bodies
of the victims. We then went into the
other rooms, and into the yard; a gen-
darme accompanying us throughout.
The examination occupied us until
dark, when we took our departure.

"Madame and Mademoiselle L'Es-
panaye were not destroyed by spirits,"
53

my friend said. "The doers of the deed
were material and escaped materially.
Then how? Let us examine, each by
each, the possible means of escape. It
is clear that the assassins were in the
room where Mademoiselle L'Espan-
aye was found, or at least in the room
adjoining, when the party ascended the
stairs. It is then, only from these two
apartments that we have to seek issues.
The police have laid bare the floors,
the ceiling, and the masonry of the
walls, in every direction. No secret
issues could have escaped their vigil-
ance. But, not trusting to their eyes, 1
examined with my own. There were,
then, no secret issues. Both doors lead-
ing from the rooms into the passage
were securely locked, with the keys
inside. ,

"Let us turn to the chimneys. These,
although of ordinary width for some
eight or ten feet above the hearths,
will not admit, throughout their ex-
tent, the body of a large cat. The im-
possibility of escape by means already

examining the other window, a similar
nail was seen similarly fitted in it; and
a vigorous attempt to raise this sash
faiied also. The police were now en-
tirely satisfied that escape had not been
in these directions. And, therefore, it
was thought a matter to withdraw the
nails and open the windows.

"My own examination was some-
what more particular, and was so for
the reason I have just given— because
here it was, I knew, that all apparent
impossibilities must be proved to be
not such in reality.

"The murderers did escape from
one of these windows. This being so,
they could not have refastened the
sashes from the inside, as they were
found fastened; — the consideration
which put a stop, through its obvious-
ness, to the scrutiny of the police in
this quarter. Yet the sashes were fas-
tened. They must, then, have the
power of fastening themselves.

"There was no escape from this
conclusion. I stepped to the unob-

stated, being thus absolute, we are re-
duced to the windows. Through those
of the front room no one could have
escaped without notice from the crowd
in the street. The murderers must have
passed, then, through those of the back
room. Now, brought to this conclusion
in so unequivocal a manner as we are,
it is not our part, as reasoners, to reject
it on account of apparent impossibil-
ities. It is only left for us to prove,
that these apparent 'impossibilities'
are, in reality, not such.

"There are two windows in the
chamber. One of them is unobstructed
by furniture, and is wholly visible. The
lower portion of the other is hidden
from view by the head of the unwieldy
bedstead which is thrust close up
against it. The former was found se-
curely fastened from within. It resisted
the utmost force of those who en-
deavored to raise it. A large gimlet-
hole had been pierced in its frame to
the left, and a very stout nail was found
fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon

(TURN TO PA"E 59)

f

"MURDER IN THE RUE MORGUE'

structed casement, withdrew the nail
with some difficulty, and attempted
to raise the sash. It resisted at! my
efforts, as I had anticipated. A con-
cealed spring must, I now knew, exist;
and this corroboration of my idea con-
vinced me that my premises, at least,
were correct, however mysterious still
appeared the circumstances attending
the nails. A careful search soon
brought to light the hidden spring. I
pressed it, and, satisfied with the dis-
covery, forbore lo upraise the sash.

"I now replaced the nail and re-
garded it attentively. A person passing
out through this window might have
reclosed it, and the spring would have
caught — but the nail could not have
been replaced. The conclusion was
plain, and again narrowed in the field
of my investigations. The assassins
must have escaped through the other
window. Supposing, then, the springs
upon each sash to be the same, as was
probable, there must be found a dif-
ference between the nails, or at least
between the modes of their fixture.
"Getting upon the sacking of the

bedstead, I looked over the head-
board minutely at the second case-
ment. Passing my hand down behind
the board, I readily discovered and
pressed the spring, which was, as I
had supposed, identical in character
with its neighbor. I now looked at the
nail. It was as stout as the other, and
apparently fitted in the same manner
— driven in nearly up to the head.

"You will say that I was puzzled;
but, if you think so, you must have
misunderstood the nature of the in-
ductions. To use a sporting phrase, I
had not been once 'at fault.' The scent
had never for an instant been lost.
There was no flaw in any link of the
chain. I had traced the secret to its
ultimate result — and that result was
the nail. It had, I say, in every respect,
the appearance of its fellow in the
other window; but this fact was an
absolute nullity (conclusive as it
might seem to be) when compared
with the consideration that here, at
this point, terminated the clew. 'There
must be something wrong,' I said,
'about the nail.' I touched it; and the

head, with about a quarter of an inch
of the shank, came off in my fingers.
The rest of the shank was in the
gimlet-hole, where it had been broken
off. The fracture was an old one (for
its edges were incrusted with rust),
and had apparently been accomplish-
ed by the blow of a harmmcr, which
had partially imbedded, in the top of
the bottom sash, the head portion of
the nail.

"I now carefully replaced this head
portion in the indentation whence I
had taken it, and the resemblance to
a perfect nail was complete — the
fissure was invisible. Pressing the
spring, I gently raised the sash for
a few inches; the head went up with
it, remaining firm in its bed. I closed
the window, and the semblance ot the
whole nail was again perfect.

"This riddle, so far, was now un-
riddled. The assassin had escaped
through the window which looked
upon the bed. Dropping of its own
accord upon his exit (or perhaps
purposely closed ) , it had become
fastened by the spring; and it was
the retention of this spring which had
been mistaken by the police for that
of the nail — further inquiry being
thus considered unnecessary.

Those found were at least of as
good quality as any likely to be pos-
sessed by these ladies. If a thief had
taken any, why did he not take the
best— why did he not take all? In a
word, why did he abandon four thou-
sand francs in gold to encumber him-
self with a bundle of linen? The gold
was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum
mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the
banker, was discovered, in bags, upon
the floor.

"I wish you, therefore, to discard
from your thoughts the blundering
idea of motive, engendered in the
brains of the police by that portion of
the evidence which speaks of money
delivered at the door of the house.
Coincidences ten times as remarkable
as this (the delivery of the money,
and murder committed within three
days upon the party receiving it),
happen to all of us every hour of our
lives, without attracting even momen-
tary notice. Coincidences, in general,
are great stumbling-blocks in the way
of that class of thinkers who have
been educated to know nothing of
the theory of probabilities — that
theory to which the most glorious
59

objects of human research are in-
debted for the most glorious of illus-
tration.

"In the present instance, had the
gold been gone, the fact of its delivery
three days before would have formed
something more than a coincidence.
It would have been corroborative of
this idea of motive. But, under the
real circumstances of the case, if we
are to suppose gold the motive of
this outrage, we must also -imagine
the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot
as to have abandoned his gold and his
motive together.

"Keeping now steadily in mind the
points to which I have drawn your
attention — the peculiar voice, that un-
usual agility, and that startling ab-
sence of motive in a murder so sing-
ularly atrocious as this — let us glance
at the butchery itself. Here is a wo-
man strangled to death by manual
strength, and thrust up a chimney
head downward. Ordinary assassins
mploy no such mode of murder as
this. Least of all, do they thus dispose
of the murdered.

"Think, too, how great must have
been that strength which could have
thrust the body up such an aperture
so forcibly that the united vigor of
several persons was found barely suf-
ficient to drag it down!

"Turn, now, to other indications of
the employment of a vigor most mar-
vellous. On the hearth were thick
tresses — very thick tresses — of gray
human hair. These had been torn out
by the roots. You are aware of the
great force necessary in tearing thus
from the head even twenty or thirty
hairs together. You saw the locks in
question as well as myself. Their roots
(a hideous sight!) were clotted with
fragments of the flesh of the scalp —
sure token of the power which had
been exerted in uprooting perhaps half
a million of hairs at a time.

"The throat of the old lady was not
merely cut, but the head absolutely
severed from the body: the instru-
ment was a mere razor. I wish you
also to look at the brutal ferocity of
these deeds. Of the bruises upon the
body of Madame L'Espanaye I do
not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his
worthy Monsieur Etienne, have pro-
nounced that they were inflicted by
^some obtuse instrument; and so far
/rffiteientlemen are very correct. The
oMuse "instrujnfiijt. was clearly the
stone pavement-'in (Ik- yard, upon

which the victim had fallen from the
window which looked in upon the
bed.

"If now, in addition to all these
things, you have properly reflected
upon the odd disorder of the chamber,
we have gone so far as to combine
the ideas of an agility astounding, a
strength superhuman, a ferocity bru-
tal, a butchery without motive, a gro-
tesque horror absolutely alien from
humanity, and a voice foreign in tone
to the ears of men of many nations,
and devoid of all distinct or intelli-
gible syllabification. What result,
then, has ensued? What impression
have I made upon your fancy?"

I felt a creeping of the flesh as
Dupin asked me the question. "A
madman," I said, 'has done this deed
—some raving maniac, escaped from
a neighboring Maison de Sante."

"In some respects," he replied,
"your idea is not irrelevant. But the
voices of madmen, even in their wild-
est paroxysms, are never found to
tally with that peculiar voice heard
upon the stairs. Madmen are of some
nation, and their language, however
incoherent in its words, has always
the coherence of syllabification.
Besides, the hair of a madman is not
such as I now hold in my hand. I dis-
entangled this little tuft from the
rigidly clutched fingers of Madame
L'Espanaye. Tell me what you can
make of it."

"Dupin!" I said, completely un-
nerved; "this hair is most unusual —
this is no human hair."

"I have not asserted that it is,"
said he; "but, before we decide this
point, I wish you to glance at the
little sketch I have here traced upon
this paper. It is a fac-simile drawing
of what has been described in one
portion of the testimony as 'dark
bruises and deep indentations of
finger nails' upon the throat of Made-
moiselle L'Espanaye, and in another
(by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne) as
a 'series of livid spots, evidently the
impression of fingers.'

"You will perceive," continued
my friend, spreading out the paper
upon the table before us, "that this
drawing gives the idea of a firm and
fixed hold. There is no slipping ap-
parent. Each finger has retained —
possibly until the death of the victim
—the fearful grasp by which it origin-
ally imbedded itself. Attempt, now,
to place all your fingers, at the same

time, in the respective impressions as
you see them."

I made the attempt in vain.

"We are possibly not giving this
matter a fair trial," he said. "The
paper is spread out upon a plane
surface; but the human throat is cyl-
indrical. Here is a billet of wood, the
circumference of which is about that
of the throat. Wrap the drawing
around it, and try the experiment
again."

I did so; but the difficulty was even
more obvious than before. "This,"
I said, "is the mark of no human
hand."

"Read now," replied Dupin, "this
passage from Cuvier."

It was a minute anatomical and
generally descriptive account of the
large fulvious Orang-Ou-tang of the
East Indian Islands. The gigantic
stature, the prodigious strength and
activity, the wild ferocity, and the
imitative propensities of these mam-
malia are sufficiently well known to
all. I understood the full horrors of
the murder at once.

"The description of the digits,"
said I. as I made an end of the read-
ing, "is in exact accordance with his
drawing, I see that no animal but
an Orang-Outang, of the species here
mentioned, could have impressed the
indentations as you have traced them.
This tuft of tawny hair, too, is ident-
ical in character with that of the beast
of Cuvier. But I cannot possibly com-
prehend the particulars of this fright-
ful mystery. Besides, there were two
voices heard in contention, and one
of them was unquestionably the voice
of a Frenchman."

It is possible — indeed it is far more
than probable— that he was innocent
of all participation in the bloody tran-
sactions which took place. The
Orang-Outang may have escaped
from him. He may have traced it to
the chamber; but, under the agitat-
ing circumstances which ensued, he
could never have recaptured it. It is
still at large.

If the Frenchman in question is
indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this
atrocity, this advertisement, which I
left last night, upon our return home,
at the office of 'Le Monde' (a paper
devoted to the shipping interest, and
much sought by sailors), will bring
him to our residence."

He handed me a paper, and I read
thus:

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Caught—//? the Bois de Boulogne.

early in the morning of the inst.

(the morning of the murder), a very
large, tawny Orang-Outang of the
Bornese species. The owner (who is
ascertained to be a sailor, belonging
to a Maltese vessel) may have the
animal again, upon identifying it satis-
factorily, and paying a few charges
arising from its capture and keeping.

Call at No. Rue , Faubourg

St. Germain — au troisieme."

"How was it possible," I asked,
"that you should know the man to
be a sailor, and belonging to a Maltese
vessel?"

"I do not know it," said Dupin.
"I am not sure of it. Here, however,
is a small piece of ribbon, which from
its form, and from its greasy appear-
ance, has evidently been used in
tying the hair in one of those long
queues of which sailors are so fond.
Moreover, this knot is one which
few besides sailors can tie, and it is
peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the
ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-
rod. It could not have belonged to
either of the deceased. Now if, after
all, I am wrong in my induction from
this ribbon, that the Frenchman was
a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel,
still I can have done no harm in say-
ing what I did in the advertisement."

At this moment we heard a step
upon the stairs.

"Be ready," said Dupin, "with your
pistols, but neither use them nor show
them until at a signal from myself."

The front door of the house had
been left open, and the vistor had
entered, without ringing, and advanc-
ed several steps upon the staircase.
Now, however, he seemed to hesitate.
Presently we heard him descending.
Dupin was moving quickly to the
door, when we again heard him com-
ing up. He did not turn back a sec-
ond time, but stepped up with de-
cision, and rapped at the door of our
chamber.

"Come in," said Dupin. in a cheer-
ful and hearty tone.

A man entered. He was a sailor,
evidently — a tall, stout, and muscular-
looking person, with a certain dare-
devil expression of countenance, not
altogether unprepossessing. His face,
greatly sunburned, was more than
half hidden by whisker and mustachio.

He had with him a huge oaken
club but appeared to be otherwise
62

unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and
bade us "good-evening," in French
accents, which, although somewhat
Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently
indicative of a Parisian origin.

"Sit down, my friend," said Dupin.
"I suppose you have called about the
Orang-Outang. Upon my word, I
almost envy you the possession of
him; a remarkably fine, and no doubt
a very valuable animal. How old do
you suppose him to be?"

A man entered. He was a sailor,
evidently — a tall, stout, and mus-
cular-looking person, with a certain
dare-devil expression of countenance,
not altogether unprepossessing. His
face, greatly sunburned, was more
than half hidden by whiske rand mus-
tachio. He had with him a huge oaken
club but appeared to be otherwise
unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and
bade us "good-evening," in French
accents, which, although somewhat
Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently
indicative of a Parisian origin.

"Bit down, my friend." said Dupin.
"I suppose you have called about the
Orang-Outang. Upon my word, I al-
most envy you the possession of him;
a remarkably fine, and no doubt a
very caluable animal. How old do you
suppose him to be?"

The sailor drew a long breath, with
the air of a man relieved of some
intolerable burden, and then replied,
in an assured tone:

"I have no way of telling — but he
can't be more than four or five years
old. Have you got him here?"

"Oh, no; we had no conveniences
for keeping him here. He is at a livery
stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by.
You can get him in the morning. Of
course you are prepared to identify
the property?"

"To be sure I am, sir."

"1 shall be sorry to part with him,"
said Dupin.

"I don't mean that you should be
at all this trouble for nothing, sir,"
said [he man. "Couldn't expect it. Am
very willing to pay a reward for the
finding of the animal — that is to say,
any thing in reason."

"Well," replied my friend, "that
is all very fair, to be sure. Let me
think! — what should I have? Oh! I
will tell you. My reward shall be this.
You shall give me all the information
in your poyer about these murders
in the Rue Morgue."

Dupin said the last words in a very
lo wtone. and very quietly. Just as
quietly, too, he walked toward the
door, locked it, and put the key in
his pocket. He then drew a pisol from
his bosom and placed it, without ilic
least flurry, upon the table.

The sailor's face flushed up as if
he were struggling with suffocation.
He started to his feet and grasped his
club; but the next moment he fell
back into his seat, trembling violently,
and with the countenance of death
itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied
him from the bottom of my heart.

"My friend." said Dupin, in a kind
tone, "your are alarming yourself
unnecessarily — you are indeed. We
mean you no harm whatever. I pledge
you the honor of a gentleman, and of
a Frenchman, that we intend you no
injury. I perfectly well know that you
are innocent of the atrocities in the
Rue Morgue. You have nothing to
conceal. You have no reason for con-
cealment. On the other hand, you are
bound by every principle of honor to
confess all you know.

"So help me God!" said he, after a
brief pause. "I will tell you all 1 know
about this affair; — but I do not expect
you to believe one half I say- — I would
be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am
innocent, and I will make a clean
breast if I die for it."

What he stated was, in substance,
this. He had lately made a voyage to
the Indian Archipelago. A party, of
which he formed one, landed at Bor-
neo, and passed into the interior on
an excursion of pleasure. Himself and
a companion had captured the Orang-
Outang. This companion dying, the
animal fell into his own exclusive pos-
session. After a great trouble, occa-
sioned by the intractable ferocity of
his captive during the home voyage,
he at length succeeded in lodging it
safely at his own residence in Paris,
where, not to attract toward himself
the unpleasant curiosity of his neigh-
bors, he kept it carefully seculded,
until such time as it should recover
from a wound in the foot, received
from a splinter on board ship. His
ultimate design was to sell it.

Returning home from some sailor's
frolic on the night or rather in the
morning, of the murder, he found the
beast occupying his own bedroom,
into which it had broken from a closet
adjoining, where it had been, as was
thought, securely confined.

Razor in hand, and fully lathered,
it was sitting before a looking-glass,
attempting the operation of shaving,
in which it had no doubt previously
watched its master through the key-
hole of the closet. Terrified at the
sight of so dangerous a weapon in the
possession of an animal so ferocious,
and so well able to use it, the man,
for some moments, was at a loss what
to do. He had been accustomed, how-
ever, to quiet the creature, even in its
fiercest moods, by the use of a whip,
and to this he now resorted. Upon
sight of it, the Orang-Outang sprang
at once through the door of the cham-
ber, down the stairs, and thence,
through a window, unfortunately
open, into the street.

The Frenchman followed in de-
spair; the ape, razor still in hand,
occasionally stopping to look back
and gesticulate at his pursuer, until
the latter had nearly come up with it.
It then again made off. In this man-
ner the chase continued for a long
time. The streets were profoundly
quiet, as it was nearly three o'clock

in the morning. In passing down an
alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue,
the fugitive's attention was arrested
by a light gleaming from the open
windown of Madame L'Espanaye's
chamber, in the fourth story of her
house. Rushing to the building, it
perceived the lighting-rod, clambered
up with inconceivable agility, grasped
the shutter, which was thrown fully
back against the wall, and, by its
means, swung itself directly upon the
headboard of the bed. The whole
feat did not occupy a minute. The
shutter was kicked open again by the
Orang-Outang as it entered the room.

The sailor, in the meantime, was
both rejoiced and perplexed. He had
strong hopes of newly recapturing the
brute, as it could scarcely escape from
the trap into which it had ventured,
except by the rod, where it might be
intercepted as it came down. On the
other hand, there was much cause
for anxiety as to what it might do in
the house. This latter reflection urged
the man still to follow the fugitive.
A lightning-rod is ascended without

difficulty, especially by a sailor; but,
when he had arrived as high as the
window, which lay far to his left, his
career was stopped; the most that he

could accomplish was to reach over

so as to obtain a glimpse of the in-
terior of the room.

At this glimpse he nearly fell from
his hold through excess of horror.
Now it was that those hideous shrieks
arose upon the night, which had
startled from slumber the inmates of
the Rue Morgue. Madame L'Espan-
aye and her daughter, habited in
their night clothes, had apparently
been occupied in arranging some
papers in the iron chest already men-
tioned, which had been wheled into
the middle of the room. Lt was open,
and its contents lay beside it on the
floor. The victims must have been
sitting with their backs toward the
window; and, from the time elapsing
between coming of the beast and the
screams, it seems probable that it was
not immediately perceived. The flap-
ping to of the shutter would naturally
have been attributed to the wind.

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As the sailor looked in, the gigantic
animal had seized Madame L-Espan-
aye by the hair (which was loose, as
she had been combing it), and was
nourishing the razor about her face,
in imitation of the motoins of a
barber. The daughter lay prostrate
and motionless she had fainted. The
screams and struggles of the old lady
furing which the hair was torn from
her head) had the effect of changing
the probably pacific purposes of the
Orang-Outang into those of wrath.

With one determined sweep of its
muscular arm it nearly severed her
head from her body. The sight of
blood inflamed its anger into frenzy.
Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire
from its eyes, it flew upon the body
of the girl and imbedded its fearful
talons in her throat, retaining its
grasp until she expired. Its wandering
and wild glances at this moment upon
the head of the bed, over which the
face of its master, rigid with horor,
was just discernible.

The fury of the beast, who no
doubt bore still in mind the dreaded
whip, was instantly converted into
fear. Conscious of having deserved
punishment, it seemed desirous of
concealing its bloody deeds, and skip-
ped about the chamber in an agony of
nervous agitation; throwing down and
breaking the furniture as it moved,
and dragging the bed from the bed-
stead. In conclusion, it seized first the
corpse of the daughter, and thrust it
up the chimney, as it was found; then
thatof the old lady, which it immedi-
ately hurled through the window
headlong.

As the ape approached the case-
ment with its mutilated burden, the
sailor shrank aghast to the rod, and
rather gliding than clambering down
it, hurried at once home — dreading
the consequences of the butchery, and
gladly abandoning, in his terror ,all
solicitude about the fate of the Orang-
Outang. The words heard b ythe party
upon the staircase were the French-
mans evclamations of horror and
affright, commingled with the fiend-
ish jabberings of the brute.

I have scarcely anything to add.
The Orang-Outang must have escaped
from the chamber, by the rod, just
before the breaking of the door. It
must have closed the window as it
passed through it. It was subsequently
caught by the owner himself, who
obtained for it a very large sum at
a traveling circus in Paris.

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